Welcome to Valinor
by fanged geranium
Summary: The Valinorian Immigration Department can't let just anyone in.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for this work.

**Welcome To Valinor**

Celeborn tapped his foot impatiently as the immigration official searched for the appropriate paperwork to deal with the Hobbit. Eventually he found the document labelled 'Ring-bearers' and waved Sam through.

Celeborn stepped up to the counter. "Welcome to Valinor," said the official, "Name?"

"Celeborn, son of Galadhon," said Celeborn.

"What is the purpose of your visit to Valinor?"

"Permanent residence."

"Have you ever attempted to overthrow Valarin government by any means?"

"No."

"Are you affiliated with any Fëanorian activist groups?"

"Definitely not."

"Have you ever attempted the theft of a Silmaril, or sworn any oaths relating to Silmarils?"

"No."

"May I see your passport and travel documents please?"

"I do not have any." said Celeborn, who had not realised that such things existed.

"That might be a problem, sir. Is there anyone here who can vouch for you?"

"My wife, Galadriel."

The official looked through his list of Valinorian residents. "I'm sorry sir, but no one of that name lives here."

"You might know her as Artanis, or Nerwen, or even Altariel."

"Ah yes, Princess Artanis. That's fine sir. We will send a message to her straight away. You can collect your luggage and go through customs while you are waiting for her."

A alarm sounded, startling Celeborn. "Ignore it," said the official, "it just means that some Avari have been detected stowed away in your ship. You won't be arrested for aiding and abetting illegal immigration - Avari have some very cunning ways of concealing themselves."

"What will you do with the Avari?" asked Celeborn.

"They'll be sent to the Formenos holding camp, and then dispatched back to Middle-earth." said the official, "Look, they're bringing them through now."

Two Elves were dragged in; both were handcuffed. "Wait a moment," cried Celeborn, "those are not Avari, they are my grandsons!"


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first tribble in this series; I'm completely overwhelmed by the response it received!

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for this work._

**Part 2**

"Grandpa!" cried Elladan and Elrohir as they caught sight of Celeborn approaching the Formenos Holding Facility.

"Good morning children," said Celeborn, smiling at his grandsons.

"Why did it take you sixty years to get here?" demanded Elladan.

"No one wanted to tell me where this place actually is. Most of them don't know, and the ones who do are sworn to secrecy - all except Fëanor's followers, and most of them are already here in this prison. I had to go and see your cousin Maglor. Luckily for you he felt kindly disposed towards Elrond's children, or I would have been filling in paperwork for the next millennium or so."

"How did Maglor get into Valinor?" asked Elrohir, "He really is a Fëanorian, not just involved in an activist group."

"He is using an assumed name," said Celeborn. "He calls himself Daeron, and no one has noticed that his voice isn't quite good enough."

"That explains a lot," said Elladan," there is an Elf in the camp who says he is Daeron, but no one believed him because they said that Daeron was already living in Aman."

"I'll do what I can for him once you and Elrohir are released," said Celeborn, "perhaps I could convince the officials that he is mad."

"It might work," said Elladan.

"Why have Father and Grandma not come with you?" asked Elrohir.

"Er, your father and grandmother are both in Lórien's clinic for ring addicts," said Celeborn, "Irmo and Estë are hoping that they will be ready to return to society in another century or two."

"What about Mother?" asked Elladan.

"Celebrían is at a retreat in Nienna's domain. She won't be back until the end of the fifth age."

"Have they set a date for our trial?" said Elrohir.

"Not yet," said Celeborn.


	3. Chapter 3

Once again, thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story.

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for this work. _

**Part 3**

"Oh no!" cried Elladan, "Look who they're bringing into the camp now!"

Celeborn looked towards the gate, where an Elf and a Dwarf were standing. He recognised them at once as Legolas, son of Thranduil, and Gimli, son of Glóin, or as Celeborn usually called him, That Damned Dwarf. He sympathised with Elladan's sentiments.

"It looks like Grandma forgot to get the Dwarf's visa before she went into rehab," said Elrohir.

"I don't think your grandmother was in any condition to be procuring visas for anyone when she arrived," said Celeborn.

One of the other prisoners wandered over to Elladan and Elrohir. "You'll never guess what they've brought the Dwarf in for," she said.

"Being a Dwarf, perhaps?" suggested Celeborn.

"No, he tried to smuggle three Silmarils into Valinor!"

"Don't be silly," said Elladan, "there were only three Silmarils to start with, and one of them is in the sky with my other grandfather."

"Avari!" said Elrohir, shaking his head.

"I'm only telling you what the customs people told the guards."

"I'll ask the agents what is going on," said Celeborn. He walked up to the gates just as the customs and excise agents were leaving. "Is it true that the Dwarf had three Silmarils in his possession when he arrived in Aman?"

"Why do you want to know?" asked one of the agents.

"Because Elu Thingol was my great-uncle," said Celeborn, "and I want to make sure the rumour is false. My family has suffered enough for the Silmarils already."

"I suppose we can tell you," said the other agent, "I'm afraid it's true enough, though. Look!" He reached into his pocket and picked out three small, gold and silver crystals that shone with a light of their own.

Celeborn took one glance at them, and began to laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for this work._

**Part 4**

"What's so funny?" asked the customs agent whose name-badge read 'Galdor'.

"Those aren't Silmarils," said Celeborn, "they're... Well, let's just say they are fairly obvious forgeries."

"Can you prove that?" asked Gelmir, the other agent.

"Try breaking them. If they smash, then they can't possibly be Silmarils."

"What an excellent idea!" said Gelmir, "Why didn't I think of it?" He set a 'Silmaril' on the ground, picked up a large rock and smashed the crystal, which shattered with the impact, leaving only shards of glass and a strand of hair.

"Well done sir!" said Galdor, "Did you know that the penalty for manufacturing a fake Silmaril is sixty thousand years, compared to only thirty thousand for importing one? You've helped us to find enough evidence to keep those two criminals locked away for a very long time!"

"Might there be some kind of reward?" asked Celeborn, "Do you think that your superiors would be grateful enough to grant my grandsons a trial in the near future?"

"I don't know about that," said Gelmir.

"What was their crime?" asked Galdor.

"They've been charged with entering Valinor illegally," said Celeborn.

"Oh dear, that's a very serious offence," said Galdor.

"They aren't guilty," said Celeborn.

"No-one ever admits that they are," said Gelmir, shaking his head sadly.

"It was all a terrible mistake," protested Celeborn.

"It always is, according to the criminals," said Galdor.

"But it was! They drank too much at my farewell party, then fell asleep aboard my ship, and when they woke up we had already docked in Alqualondë."

"It's an original excuse," said Gelmir.

"We'll do what we can to get them a trial," said Galdor, "If they're lucky, and the judge believes their story, they might only be sentenced to one century, but if it's a right-wing judge..."


End file.
